


The Ninja Kiss

by StalwartNavigator (Fallwater023)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst and Humor, Arranged Marriage, Background Relationships, Cousin Incest, Eskimo Kisses, F/M, Female Uzumaki Naruto, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Konoha is run by dead people apparently, Let's play Spot The References Bingo, Misunderstandings, Ninja Culture, No Uchiha Massacre, Self-Esteem Issues, Worldbuilding, that's what kamome's got, they're contract killers they don't have great communication skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5862154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallwater023/pseuds/StalwartNavigator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Her father was destroying her life from beyond the grave and all of Konoha was determined to help him do it</p><p>....Not that this was anything <i>new,</i> precisely, but at least the Kyuubi hadn’t involved her reproductive organs in the deal."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ninja Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm in this fandom now? Yay?
> 
> I dunno guys. I'll get back to my in-progress pics someday. In the meantime, have some happy cracky angst with underage arranged marriages and Patriarchy! 
> 
> Please do note tags/warnings: Kamome (fem Naruto) is 16 and considered an adult of marriageable age by her village, but IRL a 16-year-old marrying a twenty-something year old (twenty-seven? twenty-eight? how old _is_ Kakashi?) is really quite gross. Especially if he was her teacher. No actual sexual content in this story, which is why I'm not tagging for dub/noncon (what with the arranged marriage thing and all) and underage sex.

Shibito no ishi wa seizonsha no yori [mo tsuyoi]  
_The will of the dead is [stronger] than that of the living_  
-Fire Country proverb 

 

When Kamome was ten years old, her kunoichi class did a unit on seduction. Not the advanced techniques that specialists would mentor them in later, but a primer on the currency of affection - hugs, kisses, the faintest gesture used to establish connection. Every new topic prompted giggles. Kamome spent most of the lesson sunk into her chair, pretending she wasn’t the only girl in class who hadn’t had her first kiss. Half the class had declared that one or another of the Uchiha was their one true love, while the other half was fixed on the Hyuuga. The Hyuuga girl in the back of the class looked like she might catch fire from embarrassment, but the Uchiha girls just shrugged it off as their clan’s due. 

Still Naoko-sensei forged on with the grim determination of a war veteran. She was pushing sixty, elegant and commanding even with gray in her hair, and determined to build a strong foundation for later instructors to build on. She started with eye contact and posture - the homework for which cemented Ino’s reputation as a flirt and accidentally outed the cousin of the Uchiha heirs as gay - and moved on to facial expressions, noncontact gestures, and the use of costume. Several of the girls took this as their excuse to start exposing more skin, swapping out the leggings and t-shirts of childhood for mesh, v-necks and skirts. Once the local ninja clothing suppliers had taken their lumps and the Inuzuka kid had been rushed to the hospital for an adverse perfume reaction, Naoko-sensei moved on to physical contact. 

This was where class got very giggly. Kamome thought she might join the Hyuuga in mortified eruption, but it actually didn’t start out that bad. Handshakes, handholding, pats on the back. She was a bit rough-and-tumble herself. The only kids who would play with her were Kiba, and sometimes Shikamaru and Chouji, and you couldn’t get along with Kiba without growing a spine. Hugs were a little awkward at first, but eventually the boys just decided she was going through a cling-and-tackle phase and rolled with it. 

The trouble was with kisses. Naoko-sensei started by showing them cheesy scenes from civilian-country ‘ninja films’ where the hero beat up the badly-choreographed bad guys before leaning into the terrified princess’s face and giving her a _kosuri._ Civilians from civilian countries, Naoko-sensei explained, called the _kosuri_ a ‘ninja kiss’. Which was hysterical, because civilians in Konoha did it all the time. She hadn’t spent a day making a nuisance of herself in the market without seeing a _kosuri._ A parent soothing a child after a scary fall in the street, old friends greeting each other, couples on lunch dates. It was as much a part of life in Konoha as shaking hands or smiling. 

Kamome had never been given a _kosuri._

It wasn’t a big deal, really. She wasn’t the only orphan in the village, not even the only orphan in her class. It was just what happened when a kid lived alone and nobody let their kids be friends with her. She might have done _kosuri_ a couple times when she was still at the orphanage - it was how really little kids sealed promises - but it had been a long time since she lived there. 

Their homework had been to write about the use of _kosuri_ in their own lives and propose three mission-related uses for _kosuri._ Kamome told Naoko-sensei that she forgot to do the homework. She did that a lot with seduction homework. 

That was long ago. Uzumaki Kamome was sixteen years old now, tall and strong from three years of hard training and regular non-ramen meals. Naoko-sensei would scold her for her boyish posture, but in her defense, she’d only ever been around boys. Men, really. Jiji and Iruka-sensei, Kakashi-sensei and Ero-sennin. The people who had given a damn about her. 

She was sixteen years old now. She would register for seduction training or she would be married. Same with all her agemates. Sakura had explained this to her, in between small concussions for running off to train with the perv and leaving Sakura to deal with Sasuke’s mood swings. The asshole had apparently been getting worried about his family’s arrangements. His dad didn’t tell him anything, pretty much, which, too bad. At least he had a dad. 

Duh, Kamome didn’t tell him that. She wasn’t stupid. Sakura was a little nervous about her registration too, but Konoha was always willing to make exception for talented medic-nin. The hag was training her, so Sakura would turn out talented, whether she liked it or not. Sasuke had his clan’s arrangements to provide an heir for his brother. Same with all the clan heirs in their class. She hadn’t really kept in touch with any of the others. Kamome was the only one left high and dry. 

Which was when Naoko-sensei came to her with a decree from the Registrar. 

“So who is this Registrar dude and why is he giving me a decree?” Kamome blurted after offering her old teacher tea and a (slightly mildewed) seat. Naoko-sensei finished her sip, set the cup down with a pointed _tap,_ and said, 

“The Registrar keeps records of all Konoha ninja - births, deaths, dates of service, property ownership, medical files, awards and honors, marriages, bloodlines - those last two are the only items on the list pertinent to this visit.” Naoko-sensei drew an envelope from her purse and slid it across the table in a fluid gesture. 

Feeling like the world was slowing down around her, Kamome picked up the envelope. Years after the Academy, she still struggled with formal literacy, but Naoko-sensei was patient. She had that going for her, above Kamome’s other former teachers. The old woman sipped her tea serenely, waiting for Kamome to puzzle through the kanji. Unfortunately, the photos paperclipped to the accompanying documents required no translation. 

“I - is this a joke?” she stuttered a bit, waving the Letter of Decree vaguely. “Cuz if so, damn, you got me good!” At Naoko-sensei’s disapproving look, she lowered her gaze and muttered, “Sorry, sensei.” 

“It is no joke,” Naoko-sensei said sternly, “It is your duty to Konoha, to your bloodline - ,” her voice softened as she reached out to straighten the photograph of the Fourth Hokage, “ - and your father.” 

XXX

 _Damn,_ Kamome thought after shutting the door behind Naoko-sensei, _And I thought Sasuke had it hard._

Sasuke’s family couldn’t give him a straight answer on his arrangements because his grandfather’s will was still sealed. No will, no direction from the deceased patriarch of the Uchiha, no betrothal. Not until they were sure they wouldn’t contradict the word and honor of Uchiha Sasuke the elder. Not for another week. Since they’d been waiting for eight years to read the man’s will and get their sons hitched, Kamome couldn’t blame them for being a bit antsy. 

It was one thing to be waiting on the will of a dead man. It was another thing entirely to know that will and be stuck with it. In the last days before Hatake Sakumo’s death (his suicide, god, they hadn’t had any idea what the future would hold), Namikaze Minato had met with him to discuss the betrothal of his eight-year-old heir to an as-yet-unborn Namikaze daughter. It was a neat solution to the problem of intellectual inheritance. At least according to Naoko-sensei, who then translated that they wouldn’t worry about family techniques staying in the family. Not if Hatake Kakashi (her teacher, _her teacher_ ) passed them to an heir of Namikaze blood. Those children could later be adopted by a son of the Namikaze family and the blood, the techniques and the family line would all return to the Namikaze name. All fine and dandy. 

If Namikaze Minato had survived. 

_But how could I not know that I was, was betrothed? How come Jiiji never said?_

Minato was a great man, yes, but not the only one to die that day. The clerks who witnessed and filed the betrothal contract must have died in the attack. Sakumo had been long gone and neither he nor Minato told Kakashi before Minato followed his old friend into death. In the chaos of rebuilding, the Registrar was too busy processing deaths and medical retirements to repair all the damaged ledgers and earthquake-disordered files. Only an overhaul in preparation for upcoming clan weddings had unearthed the contract. Backups in Sakumo and Minato’s wills had confirmed the decree on the table between them. 

_On this date, 18 May of the Founding Year 1007 -_

_Being a lawful order commissioned by the will of the family heads, the Council of Elders and the Yondaime and Godaime Hokage of Konohagakure no Sato -_

_The Chuunin Uzumaki Kamome, NIN-000283849, and the Jounin Hatake Kakashi, NIN-000127374, shall present themselves for wedding registration no later than 1900 hours on the 18th of June 1007 -_

_And their firstborn for bloodline registration no later than the 18th of June 1009._

XXX

“Does Kakashi-sen - ,” Kamome choked on the word, then plowed ahead, “Does he know?” 

Naoko-sensei nodded solemnly. “With some correction for traffic and travel time, my colleague ought to have reached his home and delivered the decree about ten minutes ago.” 

“Your colleague?” 

And that was how Kamome found out that Iruka-sensei had given Kakashi-sensei the good news. 

XXX

The next day, Kamome walked five full circuits of the market before realizing that she was avoiding Him. 

Sensei. Kakashi. Him. Whatever. 

“Oh my god,” she said prayerfully to the cantaloupe she was examining, and jumped up to the roof. A little run would clear her head. 

She wasn’t avoiding Him. She totally wasn’t. What was there to avoid? 

...Okay, looming marriage contract and mandatory baby, okay…

She was Uzumaki Kamome! She didn’t avoid _anything! She_ was the thing that _other people_ avoided! Yeah! 

She was totally avoiding Him. 

Kamome growled and punched a pigeon. It squawked reproachfully at her and went off to spread mean rumors about that Uzumaki hoyden. She sighed. Punching the local wildlife was clearly not going to do anything for her temper. She needed something a little more substantial. 

XXX

“Awwwww _yeah,_ ‘TTEBAYO!” Kamome hollered, calling up a Rasengan with barely a thought and aiming it at the bastard’s ribs. The bastard vaulted back and geared up his second Chidori of the afternoon. She was still smoking faintly from the first one, which had really only grazed her and set a few trees on fire. No big. The rush of sparring with her rival had only grown exponentially after her return. Their genin scraps had been kiddie stuff. Nowadays when Team Seven members sparred, they shook the earth. 

She felt like a ninja. Like a queen. Like a god. 

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Sasuke grumbled as she helped him beat out the fire in his dumb cowl-neck jacket. 

“Whaddaya mean?” She growled, hackling up. He caught her hand in mid-whack and pointed at the still-healing scrapes on her knuckles. 

“Dumbass move for a dumbass. You only ever beat up a training post before sparring if something’s got your puny little brain in a twist. What is it?” 

Kamome ducked her chin, furrowed her brow, and glared up at him as she shoved away his hands. Grabby little bastard. “None of your business, asshole. Come put this out with me, okay? Hag’s gonna kill me if I start another forest fire.” 

“Technically I started it,” Sasuke pointed out as he ambled along behind her, “Or did you sprout _another_ elemental affinity to go with your little puddles-and-breezes trick? Quit glory-hounding, dumbass.” 

“Bastard,” Kamome shoved him. Asshole always had a way of taking her mind off her problems. She got so distracted prying the Uchiha stick out of his butt that she could forget, for a blissful hour or two, the impending marriage to her teacher. 

XXX

It wasn’t that Kamome was opposed _on principle_ to marrying a man who was older than her or higher in rank, though she knew kunoichi who had a no-superiors policy to avoid the appearance of sleeping to the top. Nor that she was opposed to marrying a man or marrying altogether, though she was good friends with some kunoichi who would never give their families children. 

But this was _Kakashi-sensei,_ the first grown-up to look at Kamome like she was something other than a screwup. Who looked at her scrawny twelve-year-old loudmouthed self and said, well, _First impression? I hate you._ But in Kakashi-speak she’d heard _you have potential._

It would be one thing if she was just sleeping with him. The perv wasn’t as good a chaperone as he thought and Kamome had spent an awful lot of her formative years talking with prostitutes. She knew how to hook up safely. Sex she could do, even with Kakashi-sensei, because knowing him it would also be two different tests, four different lessons, and a mindfuck all rolled into one evening. And at the end they would still be friends, and every seduction assignment after Kakashi-sensei would be a cakewalk by comparison. 

But this was marriage. A _baby._ This was about making a family. 

Kamome was no good at family. And she couldn’t bear to suck at it in front of Him. 

XXX

“Ne, Sakura, what would you do if you had to get married?” Kamome asked idly. They had just finished training and were doing a cooldown walk across the roofs to Sakura’s apartment. She didn’t expect her friend to go paper-white and stagger on the gable. “Whoa!” Kamome squawked, catching her elbow and steadying her. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Sakura muttered, yanking out of Kamome’s grip and turning away from her. 

“Hey, uh…” And _this_ was part of why she would suck at the family thing, when it was really important she just blanked sometimes, “...Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m _fine,”_ Sakura growled, pinning Kamome with a glare before turning to walk briskly away. 

“Yeah, sure, you almost fell off the _roof_ because you’re _fine,”_ Kamome caught up with her and yanked her around to face her again. “Sakura. Talk to me.” 

She waited a few moments, and just when she thought she’d have to beat it out of her friend it came - _“Sskeknswllcmoutantscntractwthmeeeeeeeeeeee!”_

Sakura continued to let out that _eeeee_ sound as she sank to her haunches, covering her face with her hands and shaking a bit. At a loss, Kamome crouched into a mirroring position and kept one carefully extended hand on her friend’s shoulders while Sakura caught her breath. 

“Um, sorry,” she said as Sakura took deep gulps of air and sponged at her face, “I didn’t quite...catch that.” 

Sakura glanced around her before settling on a point on the horizon to glare at. “Sasuke-kun’s. Grandfather’s will. Came out. And it’s a contract. With my family. For - services rendered in the war, I don’t. So it’s me.” She took another deep breath and looked Kamome in the eye. “Sasuke-kun is marrying me.” 

_It’s just not my week,_ Kamome had time to think before Sakura was off again. “And my father already agreed and it’s in line with my grandfather’s will and have you met Mikoto-san? Mikoto-san is _terrifying_ and she thinks this wedding is going to be the _best thing ever_ and I swear she’s already making baby clothes for the babies Fugaku-san is already naming and Itachi-san is already training and I _haven’t even given birth to yet_ and Kamomeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee - ,” 

“Breathe,” Kamome blurted out, rubbing between Sakura’s shoulder blades as she rocked back on her heels, hoping to keep her friend from throwing up and from falling off the roof with the same gesture, “Just breathe, Sakura-chan, we’ll. Um.” 

She gulped and said, “Would you like Ino?” Sakura nodded, hiding behind her hands again, and Kamome helped her to the roof of her apartment before bounding off to the Yamanaka shop. Clearly Sakura was going to be no help to her, and Kamome was going to be no help to Sakura. 

Time for a new plan. 

XXX

“WHAT?” Kiba bellowed over his shoulder, and cocked an ear to the faint scream of response from inside the house. “ONE MINUTE!” He turned to Kamome. “Okay, go. And make it quick, ‘cuz Mom’s on the warpath today. She’s always in a bad mood on Budget Week.” 

Kamome sighed the sigh of the world-weary, grabbing a puppy before it could make good its escape and dumping it back in the pen. “Okay. Uh. What would you do if you had to get married?” 

Kiba released a sudden groaning wail, half-collapsing to hang over the fence like wet laundry. “Oh god not you _too.”_

 _“...what?”_ Kamome squinted at the back of his upside-down head. Kiba deflated even further, if such a thing was possible. 

“Mom and Hana and the _entire clan_ are on my ass about getting hitched. Hinata and Shino are both engaged now so I officially have no excuse. Do you have _any idea_ how much of a pain in the ass _omiai_ are?” Kiba started ticking off items of complaint on his fingers while Kamome stared at him. “There’s the _clothes_ and the _shoes_ and the _hair_ and the room has to be _perfect_ which maybe wouldn’t be a _problem_ if we were some stuck-up noble clan like the Hyuuga and had servants but _no, I’m_ the one in charge of getting _everything_ ready and it’s like a _game show,_ I have to ask all these _questions_ and _answer_ all of them and it’s _awful,_ Kamome, I’m about ready to put a kunai through my own _head - ,”_

Kamome backed away slowly. 

New plan. 

XXX

Shikamaru stared at her. “Marriage is troublesome,” he said slowly. “I’m happy with living in sin.” 

Kamome nodded slowly, trying desperately not to think of Temari or any of the Sand Siblings. 

“Okay, I’ll, um, just go.”

New plan. 

XXX

“Want a chip?” 

Kamome kept her eyes fixed on the sky. “Sure, thanks.” She crunched contemplatively. “Don’t you think that one looks like a wedding ring?” 

Chouji sighed wistfully. “Yeah.” 

Kamome eyed the betrothal ring on his finger and the chip bag in her grasp before handing it back to him. “Have a good one, Chouji.” 

“You too,” he beamed up at the sky, lifting a hand in farewell. 

There are some conversations you just can’t have. 

New plan. 

XXX

Anko was not a good plan. 

XXX

The Hyuuga compound was really pretty. Kamome had forgotten how much - she hadn’t been here since Hinata’s engagement party, an affair attended by all the Konoha Twelve and about which they all felt equally awkward. Neji’s team had spent the entire night escaping the tender mercies of Hinata’s team, while the rest of the Rookie Nine made small talk with Hinata or carefully ignored each other. This was right after Kamome had gotten back from training, so she had a lot of stories to tell and almost nobody to tell them to. It had taken her a little while to get over how everyone moved on from their lives without her around. A little while to get used to feeling like the class idiot again. 

Hinata was as nice as ever. “Kamome-chan! It’s not Thursday…” the girl had gotten better at being assertive since drunkenly confessing to Kamome that she’d had a crush on her for years, and after a really amusing interlude involving Bushy-Brows and some spray paint and fireworks, the two had settled into a standing Thursday platonic tea date. She had a really sweet sense of humor under the shyness. Kamome had taken it as a great opportunity to probe her about Neji, too, making sure the jerkface was treating her right. Speaking of…

“Oi, Hinata-chan! I just wanted to check and make sure the jerkface is still treating you right.” Kamome grinned her foxiest grin with a hand behind her head. 

“Oh, Kamome-chan, I keep telling you Neji-kun is perfectly kind nowadays.” Hinata rolled her eyes at her guest, quietly clapping her hands. The Branch member servants appearing out of nowhere was creepier than she remembered, possibly because she wasn’t tipsy this time. “Thank you, Hideo-san, please bring a tea service for two - the black tea, I think, we may be here awhile.” Hideo-san bowed and vanished as quickly as he’d appeared. 

Hinata steered them to seats on the egawa nearby. “He’ll find us,” she assured Kamome, which hadn’t been what she was worried about, but at least it was nice to know poor Hideo-san wouldn’t be wandering around with tea and a lost expression. “Now, tell me what troubles you.” 

“I, I, uhm, I’m not sure what would give you that impression!” Kamome spluttered under Hinata’s serene smile. “Can’t a girl visit her friend, er, at home on short notice, without some kind of crisis in the works? Have a little faith in me, Hinata!” She laughed loudly, resorting to one of the Perv’s classic derailing tactics. Hinata just waited, with that quiet little smile in place and her eyebrows raised just a fraction. At length, Kamome slumped. “Yeah.” 

“Yes, Kamome-chan?” Hinata prompted, taking a sip of the tea that had suddenly appeared between them. 

_“Yeah okay there is a teeny tiny crisis.”_

“A crisis, you say.” Kamome gaped at her. Hinata was _mocking her._ That was her _Council of Elders smirk._ The one that’s too polite for people to kick up a fuss about but still makes them feel like idiots. 

“Yes! Yes, Hinata-chan, there is a _crisis_ and I am _desperate_ for some _actual_ help!” The tea sloshed, burning her hand a little. She realized she’d slapped her hands palm down on the table and half-risen. Hinata calmly motioned her down.

“Alright. What _kind_ of help?” The glint in her eyes was _entirely_ too Neji-ish, the jerkface was clearly a bad influence on her. “Do I need to mobilize the clan forces, or are you simply in need of a safehouse or quick exit?” 

Kamome’s mind stuttered a bit. “I, um, I don’t actually know,” she admitted in a tiny voice. If Hinata laughed at her, she was going to leave the Hyuuga Compound and Konoha and possibly Fire Country. Suna was so lovely this time of year. And _Gaara_ wouldn’t laugh at her. 

“Alright,” and now her face and voice were gentle and she was all Hinata again. “Why don’t you start from the beginning and we’ll figure out how I can help together.” 

Kamome mustered a shaky smile. She could do that. 

XXX

When Hinata stopped giggling behind her sleeve, she patted Kamome on the back and poured her some more tea. “Why don’t you have a sip. That _was_ a long story.” 

“Hinata I’m going to be _married to my jounin-sensei._ I don’t want _tea,_ I want a clean honorable _death.”_

“There there,” Hinata murmured, visibly swallowing another giggle. 

She was only half joking, that was the hell of it. Anything would be better than making it absolutely clear to Kakashi-sensei _exactly_ how screwed-up she was. She explained this to Hinata in between periods of manic flailing and collapsed sobbing. At which point Hinata pulled a fan out of her sash and rapped Kamome’s knuckles with it. 

“Kamome-chan,” she said calmly, “It’s a betrothal, not a death sentence. You know the man you will be betrothed to. You know that he is a powerful shinobi of good family in possession of at least some of his sanity. You know that he will treat you with the respect you and your honored fathers are due.” 

“...Respect is kind of relative with Kakashi-sensei, Hinata-chan,” Kamome muttered sullenly, clutching her tea. It was her only lifeline in a world gone insane. Her father was destroying her life from beyond the grave and all of Konoha was determined to help him do it. 

...Not that this was anything _new,_ precisely, but at least the Kyuubi hadn’t involved her reproductive organs in the deal. 

Come to think of it. What exactly did the Kyuubi do to her ability to have kids? It hadn’t turned out well for her mother. _Jump off that bridge when I get to it,_ Kamome decided, and turned her attention back to Hinata, who was now scowling at her. 

“Kamome-chan, Kakashi-senpai deserves better from you. He is…” Hinata searched again for the right word before settling on, _“eccentric,_ but in the joint history of the Hyuuga and Hatake clans, his people have never been known to mistreat their families.” And now she looked _sad,_ Kamome _hated_ it when Hinata was sad. “Would that we had followed their good example.” 

“...okay,” Kamome said quietly. “Okay. Looking on the bright side. I guess that’s my specialty, huh?” 

Hinata smiled softly at her. “Absolutely.” 

“He’s. He’s not _really_ old, I guess. Younger than most people on his level. Yon - my father, he arranged this when Kakashi was, like, eight. I was born a couple years later. We’re almost in the same decade, if you think about it that way.” Her friend made encouraging gestures as she worked through it. “Yeah! If you think about it that way he’s not old at _all,_ ‘ttebayo! And he’s _super_ strong, like Hinata you have no idea unless you’ve gone on a mission with him while I’ve been gone, he’s _awesome. Nothing_ gets past him. He invented the frickin’ Chidori. There are like eight different nations with bounties on him. And he - ,” Kamome comes up short as something like a door opening up happens in her head. From a dark room to a bright day outside. “He never leaves a teammate behind. He’s loyal to Konoha but he’s loyal to _people_ first. And he’s weird and crazy and never on time and reads porn everywhere but, Hinata-chan, when it’s down to the wire and I _need_ him, he _always_ comes through.” 

Kamome gulped. It had taken her awhile to adjust to the brightness of that realization, but now that she’d found her footing it was easier to go on than to stop. Hinata kept gesturing encouragingly as she thought aloud. It was so much nicer to do this with another person than with Mr. Ukki, who was an excellent listener, sure, but it always made Kamome feel a little crazy to talk to her houseplant. “And he’s brave and fierce and, and merciful when he can be.” She giggled a little wetly. “He’s good with small animals.” Hinata, who had also met Pakkun at a festival, giggled along with her. 

They took bracing sips of tea, and Hinata kept waiting for Kamome to spit out the words she was chewing on. 

“He trusts me,” she blurted at last, fixing her eyes on the garden. Some things were just easier to say to plants. “I’m not just the Demon Fox to him, or Chuunin Uzumaki Kamome NIN-000283849, or That Vandal Hoyden, or the Dumbass Who Made Good. He, well,” she laughed, more a huff of air than anything, looking down, “He probably knows more about me than I do.” 

The Hyuuga Compound was so quiet. Usually quiet places made Kamome really antsy, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it felt so good to just sit and really think. No distractions. No obligations, not right now. Just her and a cup of tea and a good friend to sit with. And think. About the course of her entire future. 

“...I’m probably not going to make jounin, am I?” she said quietly to Hinata. “I mean, barring a war or something. The next trials are in eight months. They want a kid in two years. So I put off having one until after the trials and risk something going wrong or, or not being able to - ,” and the thought was shattering in a way that caught her off guard. The idea that she might never have a child of her own blood. She pushed on. “ - or I try from the start and risk getting pregnant before the trials.” 

“They may also take you off active duty until you conceive,” Hinata said gently. “The Elders wanted to petition for it, but Father and Neji wouldn’t hear of it. They know it’s important to me to stay on duty as long as I can.” 

“Oh crap.” And that was the rub, wasn’t it. All her life she had wanted to be the best ninja in the village. That was her dream, before she even really knew what ninja were. To be strong, to be acknowledged, to protect, to uplift and uphold. A baby at sixteen or seventeen or eighteen would change the course of her career. She would spend years on maternity leave, until the kid was independent enough to be left for missions. 

And if both she and Kakashi were frontline ninja, they could leave their child orphaned in one night. She’d been an orphan kid. It sucked. 

“This is probably going to change everything,” she said, as much to herself as to Hinata. 

But it was the will of her father, and Kakashi’s father. It was the will of the Elders and of not one but two Hokages (and she would be having _strong words_ with the Hag, _very soon_ ). 

“You know, Hinata-chan,” Kamome said idly, “Sandaime-jiiji told me this story once, about a fire that burned for fifty years. There’s this thing called a peat fire. It’s barely even embers, almost ashes as the peat burns, and it makes almost no smoke and almost no heat. But it burns, all right, crawling along under the ground. So when this huge forest fire was put out, nobody knew that it had started a peat fire, and they built a proud village on the site of the old burn. Said they rebuilt from the ashes, so they could do anything. And fifty years later, when the village was a city famous around the world and home to millions of people, the peat fire found the surface again. One windy night and the whole city was ashes.” 

It wasn’t a _nice_ story, not the way civilian stories were compulsively _nice._ But it was a ninja story. 

It was the will of her father and her betrothed’s father and her leaders and wise men that she marry Hatake Kakashi. It was the Will of Fire. She could burn for five years or fifteen or fifty. For them. For him. 

As soon as she worked up the courage to tell him. 

XXX

In the end, she didn’t have to go find him. He slouched into the seat next to her at Teuchi’s. She finished the miso and started in on the shrimp as he caught Ayame’s eye, nodding and signaling his order. The dinner rush was just starting to die down so she bustled into the back right away. 

“Ah, Kamome-chan,” he said at last, turning his shoulders like he was surprised to find her here. “It’s been awhile.” 

“Mmfh,” she nodded vaguely, keeping her gaze fixed forward. He followed suit. 

She hadn’t seen him since coming back. Sakura-chan said he was on missions all the time. “I heard you’d been promoted to Chuunin,” he broke apart his chopsticks and gestured with them at her shiny new vest. Then he slurped an enormous mouthful of noodles without appearing to move his mask at all. Definitely genjutsu. Why was he so weird. “Congratulations. How’d that happen?” 

Kamome made a vague arcing motion with her own chopsticks. “There was a mission in Nadeshiko and I kind of became an honorary princess, or something, I’m not really sure. Tsunade-baaba made it official when I came back.” 

“The princess thing? Your highness!” he exclaimed. Ugh, she’d forgotten how sarcastic he was. 

“The promotion. Look, are we going to do this all night?” she turned to him and gestured between them with the chopsticks. 

“Do what?” Innocently, he took another slurp of ramen and dabbed at his mask with a paper napkin. 

Kamome could strangle him, she really could. No jury would convict her in court-martial. Her entire command structure knew him. “Pretend that everything is normal and it’s just ‘aw, cute little kid Kamome-chan and her wise weirdo teacher Kakashi-sensei catching up at the ramen stand!’ when in fact you know _full well_ what I am talking about you _walking slime mold.”_

For an instant he looked almost hurt. Then he curved his eye at her and offered her a taste of his ramen. Kamome had come of age around brothels, and prostitutes had the most creative, eloquent profane vocabulary of anyone she knew. 

“My my, such language,” he said mildly when she paused for breath, though she had seen his eye go wide about halfway through her tirade. 

“YOU - ,” Kamome curled her fingers into the rim of her stool with a creak of metal, bringing herself up short. The few civilians left in the stand had cleared out pretty damn quick. The ninja customers were watching them wide-eyed. Ayame had her head hanging out the kitchen door and a half-scandalized half-impressed expression on her face. “Let’s just cut the crap. Training Ground 3 okay with you?” 

Kakashi cocked his eyebrow at her. She flushed. It wasn’t entirely proper - and she cut off _that_ train of thought with the weight of a million-year-old rage demon’s power. It would be _perfectly proper_ for a chuunin and her jounin-sensei to do field practice at night in any other fucking context. Kakashi was making it weird on purpose. Keep moving. Keep him off-balance. She stood up, slamming her bills on the counter. “Well? I’d rather not do this in front of the gossip mill.” Her chopstick gesture at the remaining patrons was perhaps a little more vicious than necessary, but it got the human slug moving. Also had the added benefit of making the entire stand flinch in unison. She should get angry more often. She’d forgotten how relaxing it was. 

And now she was leading him. Which actually wasn’t an unpleasant thought. She’d spent a considerable portion of her childhood with the man’s retreating back fixed in her sights, trying not to fall behind. _Time for some payback,_ she figured, and flickered off through the crowd. Kakashi was an elite jounin, ex-ANBU, and had taught her many of the foundations she relied on. But nobody knew the streets and crowds of Konoha like she did. She’d spent her entire childhood disappearing. It wasn’t hard to do it on purpose. 

She could lose him for a whole minute before he caught her tail again, which wasn’t half shabby for a heavy combat specialist evading a tracker/hunter specialist. That reassuring tuft of silver hair stood out a mile in these crowds. Her own deep red locks were wound in a bun, so all she had to do was lose him long enough to toss a scarf over it and she was invisible, one more of the many bescarved and behatted women out shopping tonight. Unless he cheated and followed her chakra signature, which she had approximately a snowball’s chance in Suna of hiding. 

“Not bad,” he said when they made it to the training ground. “The scarf was a nice touch. Also the fruit bats and the breakfast cereals.” 

She grinned and planted her hands on her hips. “Ain’t no thang.” 

A Tea Country brothel accent made him blush. _Interesting._

She filed that information away for later and crossed her arms. Business time. “So. Um.” 

“Yeah.” He seemed uncomfortable himself, mask at its most masky and porn open between them as an extra shield. “Um.” 

“Okay, I’ll just say it. Marriage.” She spit the word out as fast as possible. 

“Well, technically a betrothal,” the man corrected, almost apologetically. His porn crept up another half-inch between them. “We’d have to announce it publically to be engaged and sign papers at the Registrar to be married.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’m not a total child,” Kamome regretted the venemous words as soon as they left her mouth. “Sorry. Um. This is all really weird, for me. I mean, weird even by my standards. Which is saying a lot I guess.” 

Thank god, he chuckled. And the book sank a bit, too, which was progress. Baby steps. “I am sorry that it happened this way,” he said quietly. “You - it would have been better if we’d known.” 

Kamome shrugged. “Not your fault,” she said easily. 

And in saying that, she realized that it really wasn’t. Kakashi couldn’t help that their parents had died before they knew. Couldn’t help that she’d grown up a pariah and he’d grown up a killer. A storyteller in the Land of Turtles had told her once that there were a thousand worlds, and that every choice made in this world created another world where the choice had gone differently. She hadn’t believed everything the old man said - he spun a good story, but the bit about the elephants was a little hard to swallow. But maybe somewhere in his night sky of many worlds was a world where Minato hadn’t died that night. Somewhere Kamome grew up knowing that she would marry her father’s student, where Kakashi was her friend rather than her teacher. Where she had a mother to teach her how to make a good family. 

It was nobody’s fault that she didn’t live in that world. There were choices her father had made, and Kakashi’s father, and the people at the Registrar and the Elders and the Hokage. If this was something she was going to blame people for, she would blame them. 

But this was the first time she’d talked with her jounin-sensei in four years. She couldn’t regret that. 

He’d been talking while she was thinking. She blinked back to awareness as he looked at her expectantly. 

“Sorry? I was thinking.” 

He gave her a disappointed eyebrow. 

“Don’t you give me the disappointed eyebrow! This is a lot to think about!” 

The man ducked his head and cleared his throat. “Sorry. I said, do you want this to be public? It’s, ah, not exactly a conventional match.” 

And there went _another_ avalanche of thoughts. Part of Kamome’s mind went off to worry about _telling people,_ sure Hinata-chan knew, but Sakura and Ino would have screaming fits and gods only knew what the boys would do, while another part of her went off to worry about _not telling people_ and trying to do this alone with only her to know if she screwed up, wow, suddenly that was looking like a good idea, and _yet another_ part of her plunked down in the middle of her head and started wringing its hands about _Kakashi not telling people_ and was he ashamed? 

He was marrying a girl twelve years younger than him. A girl. Kamome had killed men and maimed them and led them in combat and tortured them for information and had sex with them, but she still felt like a girl. How would it look to his colleagues? She imagined him standing up in front of the other jounin-sensei hand in hand with her and saying _this is my betrothed_ and nearly _staggered_ where she stood from the backwash of secondhand shame. He had been in _ANBU_ when she was born, for the gods’ sake. What was her father _thinking?_

What was Kakashi thinking, come to think of it? 

“Um. It’s a lot. Do you? Uhm, want to, I mean.” She glanced around reflexively. A civilian girl might look down in moments of embarrassment. A kunoichi checked the perimeter. 

Kakashi sighed deeply. “I really don’t care one way or another. It’s your choice.” 

“Oh.” Kamome tried not to show hurt. It was stupid to be hurt by that. He was literally giving her all the choice and all the freedom here. But she couldn’t stop hearing _I really don’t care._

Well, if there was one thing Kakashi was really good at, it was silence. He let her gather her thoughts before she spoke again. “I’d rather just rip the bandage off. Tell them all together. If it’s all the same to you.” Keep the humiliation to a minimum. 

“Alright.” The porn was back up again. Gods, she forgot how much she hated that stupid habit. “Would you like to have the party at my place, or yours?” 

She snapped and swatted the book out of his hands, barking something like _“Put that down!”_

He stood very still while she collected herself. “No party. Please,” she managed to grit out at last between her teeth. “None.”

“...then how should we gather people together?” Kakashi ventured when it seemed safe to speak again. And because he was Kakashi he immediately started pushing the scroll again. “Village-wide picnic? Fireworks show? Private screening of _Icha Icha Oasis?_ S &M festival parade?” 

It had been a very long day. That was Kamome’s defense for giggling like a schoolgirl at the last suggestion. Kakashi just sort of stood there helplessly while she doubled over screeching and honking with laughter. It wasn’t very ninja-like of her, but when she laughed, she _laughed._

Yeah, they’d pull through alright. It would be hard, and weird, but what about her life wasn’t? She was the next Hokage, she could totally do this. If Kakashi didn’t drive her to mariticide first.


End file.
